


(Non-)Binary Code

by EssayOfThoughts



Series: MCU Maximoff Oneshots [169]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Coming Out, Fluff, Non-Binary Vision, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 07:36:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EssayOfThoughts/pseuds/EssayOfThoughts
Summary: They stay in Wanda’s room for a while, as Vision pieces the thoughts together, bouncing ideas and concepts off her in English and Sokovian both until they have some cohesive idea of what to say.“You want me to help too?” Wanda checks for a third time and for a third time Vision nods.“You helped me be certain,” they say. “And… you know better than I do, when they do not understand, or when they misunderstand.”Wanda smiles at that, takes Vision’s hand in hers and leans to press a kiss to Vision’s cheek, quick and impulsive.





	(Non-)Binary Code

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [MaximoffFicExchange2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MaximoffFicExchange2018) collection. 



> > **Prompt:**
>> 
>> A Wanda/Vision genderbend with Vision as a non-binary lesbian. MCU or 616 comicverse are both on the table.
> 
> I've done my best to write this respectfully and reasonably, when I myself have no real tie to gender - it doesn't factor into how I identify - and I've run it by several friends who are not cisgender, but was unable to run it by someone who identifies specifically as femme-leaning Non-binary. Should something in the fic be off in some way feel free to tell me and I'll do what I can to correct it. 

> Accidental
> 
> [verb]
> 
> _ Etymology _ : from Old French  _ accidentel _ or directly from Mediaeval Latin  _ accidentalis _ , from Latin  _ accidentem _ (see accident). Meaning “outside the normal course of nature”.

 

* * *

 

**i.**   
“Is there a difference,” Vision asks one day, “Between the minds of men and the minds of women?”

Wanda looks up from her book. Vision is sat exactly as he had been ten minutes ago, neatly folded on a chair in the corner, staring out the window. There is a very slight frown to his expression.

“There’s a difference between  _ every _ mind,” Wanda says. “I don’t think there’s anything in particular which sets the mind of a man apart from that of a woman.”

“But you can tell, can’t you?” he asks. “You’ve guessed before about the identity of people on the other side of walls, or in other rooms; Natasha has you do it for practice.”

Wanda shifts slightly, uncomfortable, and sets her book to one side. “It’s not… exact,” she says. “Not unless I’m  _ in _ a mind, and I don’t do that anymore. You know that.”

Vision, still, is frowning, and persists.

“But you have been,” he says. “So… what sets them apart?”

Wanda shrugs. “Nothing,” she says. “But everyone has at least some idea of what they are, or are not.”

 

* * *

 

**ii.**   
“Dysphoria,” Vision says a few days later. “That’s what you meant, isn’t it? About people knowing what they are or aren’t.”

Wanda sets her guitar back on its stand and gestures to the beanbag in the corner. Vision gladly takes it.

“First,” she says, “Knock. I don’t mind so much if the door is open, but  _ please _ knock.”

Vision looks vaguely sheepish, and nods.

“Second, I don’t know what that word means.”

 

* * *

 

**iii.**   
Two hours later they’re called to dinner, and they’re still discussing it, Vision lapsing into Sokovian to explain things better when Wanda’s English isn’t good enough to permit understanding. At the table their whole conversation becomes Sokovian, because Wanda is relatively certain that this isn’t a discussion that Vision wants public. Instead they pass bowls up and down the table, dole out pieces of lamb and roast potatoes and peas and carrots and parsnip.

“Thank you,” Wanda says briefly to Steve and Sam when Natasha indicates who did the cooking, quickly followed by Vision.

“Don’t thank us yet,” Steve says. “It's been a while since I cooked for anyone but myself.”

“Ignore the man,” Sam says. “It’ll be fine.”

“So,” Wanda says in Sokovian again. “You are trying to understand what makes it certain that a mind is one gender or another and you think that dysphoria or a lack of it is what helps me to understand?”

“Perhaps,” Vision says. He’s poking at his food in the uncertain way he always does - he can eat, they’ve learned, though he doesn’t need to, and things can taste odd to him as he slowly configures his taste buds.

“That doesn’t make sense, though,” she says. “Some of us feel uncomfortable in our skins for other reasons, and besides, I do not  _ know _ what skin someone has when I see or touch their mind. I just know…  _ them. _ Who they are, and how they see themselves and the world. I do not know what they look like or what race they are or what faith they were born to. I just know who they are in that moment.”

Vision, slowly, mulls it over. At the other end of the table Sam and Rhodey and Steve are sharing wartime anecdotes. Tony’s chair and Clint’s are both empty. Natasha, closer to their end, watches the boys with some fondness, but is clearly paying half an ear of attention to their conversation.

Wanda wonders if Natasha knows Sokovian.

She doesn’t think it's entirely unlikely.

 

* * *

 

**iv.**   
There is a knock on her door very late one night. 

Wanda rises slowly, stretches her arms out and clicks her joints before slipping on the fluffy bathrobe that Natasha had given her after she’d come back from visiting the farm once. 

At her door is Vision.

 

* * *

 

**v.**   
“You think it's strange,” Vision says quietly after everything has been explained.

Wanda is spinning scarlet between her fingertips, fine thread like a spiderweb. “No,” she says. “There are too many things strange in this world to find that strange as well. Given everything it is… unexpected. But no stranger than I am, with my powers.”

“I don’t know what I am,” Vision says. “But… I know I am not male, no matter what my body may have been created as.”

“Your body was made by Ultron,” Wanda says, shrugging. “And he intended to use it. He was male, so he made a male body.” She looks at Vision, folded beside her at the edge of her bed, and smiles. “No one expected you.”

For a while there is silence. There is no light in the room - there doesn’t need to be, when Wanda’s scarlet spins between her fingers like a crimson nebula, illuminating them both in a warm glow. Outside distant lights are distant pinpricks, but the windows mostly show a dark sky, and the most sound there is is of their own breathing.

“What do you think I should do?” Vision asks, and Wanda laughs.

“Why would I know?” she asks. “I knew people in a similar situation when I was on the streets, but from what you’ve said people who are not on the streets act rather differently. Why would I know, Vizh?”

Vision’s eyes are almost pleading. “It’s more than I do,” Vision says, and Wanda sighs. Gently, she reaches out and takes a vibranium hand in hers. 

“We had rules, on the streets,” she says, and rubs her thumb over vibranium-laced knuckles. “Treat others as you’d like to be treated. So if someone wanted to be treated politely they treated others politely. If they wanted kindness they acted with kindness. If they wanted mercy, mercy, if they wanted respect then they offered respect. I was a street witch, so most everyone respected me, and so I offered it back to all of them.”

She looks at Vision’s eyes, their bright strange green, and smiles gently. “I do not know how those not on streets would act. But we can use the streets for a basis.” Her thumb stills on magenta skin. “I am Wanda Maximoff, street witch of Sokovia. What should I call you?”

“Vision,” Vision says, but their voice is far softer now the stress and worry has faded away. “And I like being called Vizh. I’m not sure about much else, yet, but I do like my name.”

 

* * *

 

**vi.**   
Vision stays that night in Wanda’s room, hovering in the corner. Wanda’s not sure if they can sleep, but they have their odd hovering standby mode - and that  _ is  _ something she finds strange - and Wanda doesn’t mind Vision’s presence so close. She finds them peaceful to be around, much of the time, and after their midnight discussion she did not think she could easily turn them away. It would have felt wrong.

They linger close, instead, Vision still hovering while Wanda showers and dresses, only waking when Wanda flicks on her hairdryer. 

“It will be breakfast soon,” they say, and Wanda turns and smiles.

“Will you be joining us?” she asks.

 

* * *

 

**vii.**   
Vision has more questions than they have words for, which is strange given that they can search through the internet for new words on a whim. They try, though, because they want to word these questions and want answers to these questions, and they have learned with relative swiftness that the internet is not the first nor the final source on anything. 

It certainly isn’t for kindness.

When English fails, Vision turns to Sokovian. Wanda is strange about speaking Sokovian - sometimes she seems all too willing, especially around the rest of the team, when it's one of their conversations - but other times she avoids it, as though it hurts. Other days she simply speaks English - she wants to practice, she says, and get better, and Vision can’t really blame her. Not everyone can just download fifteen dictionaries, two tour guides and a book on Sokovian grammar into their heads.

Midnight discussions are less common. The first had been a culmination of many things - of thoughts and questions and doubt and self-doubt, and Wanda had met it all with kindness and questions in turn, seeking to understand in ways that Vision doesn’t doubt the team could match… but it felt right to go to Wanda with them. She, like them, was alone. She, like them, sought connection. 

She, unlike anyone else, could reach right into someone’s head, and understand. 

“Will you?” they ask one day. “I… I don’t know what I am, not simply. I know what I’m not but I don’t know what I am. We’re confusing the team and so we’re going to have to  _ tell _ the team and-”

Wanda’s hand is warm and gentle. “And so you would like to have a firm idea of what we should tell them,” she says. 

“Yes,” Vision says. “Please? You are welcome in my mind. When I said  _ Look again, _ when we first met, I meant it. The offer stands.”

Wanda looks uncertain, chewing on her lower lip, before she finally nods. “Tilt your head,” she say softly. “This may feel… strange.”

 

* * *

 

**viii.**   
Strange is one word for it, but another is  _ wonderful. _ Her scarlet makes things clear in a strange way, as soon as it touched their mind it  _ showed _ them. Not just the outside world but the inside too, orange databanks and metallic-green neurons and magenta-magenta-magenta like cells and connections, linking between everything. The scarlet darts through like smoke or lightning, illuminating small distant thoughts that bear connections Vision only half-understands. 

Wanda, they think, isn’t entirely sure  _ what _ it is that she is doing, she is using her powers as she always does, with half a thought, on pure instinct. Gathering together the thoughts all on this one topic, on this one question, right where they can be easily seen and understood.

Then, suddenly, the scarlet is gone, Wanda’s hand is no longer between them, but resting gently on their cheek. The thoughts, gathered together, settle into messy place.

“That was incredible,” Vision says softly, and they do not think they’ve seen Wanda’s eyes this close before. “Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

**ix.**   
They stay in Wanda’s room for a while, as Vision pieces the thoughts together, bouncing ideas and concepts off her in English and Sokovian both until they have some cohesive idea of what to say. 

“You want me to help too?” Wanda checks for a third time and for a third time Vision nods.

“You helped me be certain,” they say. “And… you know better than I do, when they do not understand, or when they misunderstand.”

Wanda smiles at that, takes Vision’s hand in hers and leans to press a kiss to Vision’s cheek, quick and impulsive. 

“You’ll learn in time,” she promises, and Vision looks half shellshocked before a smile slowly spreads across their face. Their other hand rises to their cheek.

“Thank you,” they say and Wanda smiles only wider.

“Thank  _ you,” _ she says. “You’ve made me think more about things I never thought on.”

 

* * *

 

**x.**   
They walk towards the main room not hand-in-hand, but close, elbows brushing against one another. Wanda thinks Vision is nervous, and doesn’t blame them.  _ She’s  _ nervous and this isn’t even  _ about  _ her.

The team is there, just as she’d thought they might be - its not constant, where the team decides to linger each day, but Wanda has a good idea of the team now, and a better sense for locating their minds. Natasha looks up first, ever-attuned to any potential threat, and the rest follow her gaze. 

“Hi,” Wanda says, and reaches out her hand to take Vision’s. “Vision and I want to talk to you about a few things.”

 

* * *

 

**xi.**   
“Well,” Sam says after its all been explained. “That explains a lot of the past few weeks.”

“Makes sense too,” Natasha says. “Vision was an accident. Makes sense that they’d go against everything people thought or intended.”

Steve frowns. “That’s rude, Natasha.”

Natasha frowns back. “Do  _ none _ of you know Latin? Accident?  _ Accidentalis, accidentem? _ ” Natasha asks. She looks around, mock-frustrated. “ _ Accidentem.  _ Outside the normal course of nature.” She gestures. “Which, if you’ll all note, Vision  _ is. _ It's not meant as an insult.”

“And it's not taken as one,” Vision says softly. “Natasha meant no harm, Captain, I do not think we need treat her as though she did.”

Steve keeps frowning, but doesn’t say anything more. 

“So its they?” Sam asks. “Singular?”

“That’s what I’ve been using,” Wanda says. “Vision wasn’t sure, so we went with something that wasn’t one or the other while they figured things out.”

The team, as one, look to Vision. “I’ve figured more things out,” they say. “But I’m still not one or the other. But I’d be ok with she as well.”

Natasha grins at that. Rhodey sighs and splays back on his seat.

“Well now thats all sorted out,” he says. “Who’s arranging telling Tony and Clint?”

 

* * *

 

**xii.**   
Natasha calls dibs on Clint, even before Wanda can. The three of them - Natasha, Vision and Wanda - all fly out to the farm and Natasha spends half an hour winding Clint up before Vision gently breaks in to explain. The look of relief that it’s not whatever crazy thing Natasha was implying and genuine joy at being kept in the loop is staggering, and they’re one by one swept into hugs. They spend the rest of the day drinking tea and eating biscuits, playing with Lila and Cooper, and cooing over baby Nate. Laura, it seems, is altogether too glad to be able to leave her youngest in their hands for an hour and a half before his hunger overrides his curiosity at Vision’s magenta skin. 

When they get back Rhodey is waiting.

 

* * *

 

**xiii.**   
“I don’t mind coming with you to tell Tony,” he says to Vision, “and I’m more than happy to ask Pepper to be there as well, because if anyone can rein in Tony at his worst it’s Pep. I don’t know that he’ll  _ be _ at his worst - Tony generally doesn’t mind who or what someone is provided they’re not an obnoxious dick - but… you are  _ you _ and not entirely human and partly his JARVIS, and so he may not take this all the best way.”

Wanda looks to Vision, and squeezes their hand. “I’ll come with you,” she says. “If you want.”

“And have it devolve to an argument?” Vision asks. “You both feel too strongly, and there’s still bad blood between you both.” They look to Wanda fondly, and rub a thumb over her knuckles. “Thank you, but I think it's best if you stay here.”

There’s a pause, long and full, before Wanda nods, and disentangles her hand from Vision’s. “Take care,” she says. “And if he says  _ anything _ wrong, tell me.”

Vision smiles at that. “I won’t,” they assure her. “Unless he says something truly terrible.”

 

* * *

 

**xiv.**   
Vision and Rhodey return unscathed. That evening there’s an email in Vision’s inbox from Pepper, asking if they want to make the whole matter public or not, but they don’t answer it immediately. Instead, Vision seems quite happy to spend the evening curled next to Wanda while she reads.

Every third page Wanda looks up over the pages at them, half-concerned.

“He said nothing bad,” Vision assures her, after the fourth time. “I appreciate the concern but… he said nothing bad.”

Wanda’s lips purse. “He said  _ something _ , though. Didn’t he?”

Vision smiles at that. “A joke,” they say. “He said,  _ You may have been built half from code, but you’re certainly not binary.” _

It takes Wanda a few moments to get it - a few moments to dredge up the knowledge she’s picked up on computers and code since spending more time with Vision - and then she laughs. 

“That’s better,” she says, around laughter. “Better than Natasha’s comment.”

Vision only smiles wider, warmer, and Wanda can see so very clearly just how much they cherish these little jokes and comments, these small things that show how the team welcomes them and includes them, and considers them - inhuman and half from code - as real and alive and  one of the team.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Please leave comments!


End file.
